


Five Times Lupin and Snape Should Not Have Had Sex at Order Headquarters (But Couldn't Help It)

by Snegurochka



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-11-03
Updated: 2008-11-03
Packaged: 2017-10-10 22:32:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/105104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snegurochka/pseuds/Snegurochka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time was rather a surprise, the second time just plain predictable. The third was supposed to go much differently, thank you very much, and the fourth devolved into cliché. The <i>fifth</i>, moreover... well. Neither of them really wishes to talk about that one, if you don't mind.</p><p>7,100 words. NC-17. Written for snupin_santa. Thanks to Smoke and Flora for the beta work. November 2008.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Times Lupin and Snape Should Not Have Had Sex at Order Headquarters (But Couldn't Help It)

** _one_ **

The raindrop slipped down Lupin's nose and splashed, rather dramatically, onto the web of skin between his thumb and forefinger. It was able to do so because his hand, as it happened, was positioned not far from the nose, just underneath it, in fact. The hand was gripped tightly over the shoulder of a dishevelled man whose gulps of breath – indicating either pulmonary distress or the throes of a tremendously satisfying orgasm; one could not yet be certain – had shaken the raindrop loose in the first place.

It was a terribly inconvenient time for rain.

Panting quite audibly himself, Lupin started to unclench his hand from the man's shoulder and lift himself off his back – where a lovely expanse of pale shoulder blade continued to beckon to him despite his post-coital fatigue. The man's stiff white shirt had come loose, as one might imagine in such a situation, and hung halfway down his back. Lupin's hand, still wet from the stray drop, rose to his face, where he wiped his open palm over his eyes, nose, mouth and down to his chin, letting his features crumple in a well-timed wince. Drops were landing on him in rapid fire now, sliding down his forehead and into the open collar of his shirt, and he could feel the ground underneath him shifting from dirt to mud.

It was a terribly poor idea to be fucking in the rain.

"I– ah–" he stammered, his hand dropping between his legs, where he began the delicate process of extracting his softening prick from the cleft of the other man's arse. "We– ah– that is to say–"

"Yes," the other man managed, his jaw set just as tightly as Lupin's. "Quite."

A residual shiver passed down Lupin's spine at the sound of the man's deep voice, still windswept by all the panting, coinciding with Lupin's hand coming into contact with his still feebly-pulsing prick. He closed his eyes and allowed himself the small pleasure of running his fingers through the oil and come still covering his shaft, trembling as the last drops twitched out of him.

"If you're quite finished," the man spoke up again, now sounding much more like he usually did when he was _not_ recovering from the pulmonary distress of a tremendously satisfying orgasm, "I require a thorough cleaning charm, not to mention the return of my trousers to their rightful place."

It was a terribly regrettable situation to be fucking Severus Snape in the rain, approximately four minutes before the start of the week's official meeting of the Order of the Phoenix.

"Right, yes. Of course." Lupin stepped back, releasing his hold on the body underneath him and allowing it to join him in retreating from the brick wall. He busied himself with righting his own clothing while Snape straightened, grasping his trousers from around his thighs and hauling them up. He pulled his shirt back on over his shoulders and buttoned it before leaning down to retrieve his abandoned robe from the ground.

He glared at it as it bunched in his fingers, dripping with mud, and then he raised that furious gaze to Lupin.

"_I_ never told you to drop it in the mud," responded Lupin, raising an eyebrow as he pulled his own robe tight around himself.

Throwing him a filthy look, Snape pointed his wand at the fabric and muttered a cleaning charm before swirling it around his shoulders and shoving his arms through. He stalked off without another word, and Lupin heard him stomp around the corner and up the steps of Grimmauld Place, grumbling the proper words for admission. The heavy door clanged shut behind him.

Shaking his head to clear it, Lupin took another minute to gather his wits about him and attempt to refocus on the tasks at hand once he entered the house. It wouldn't do to dwell any longer on the feel of Snape's resisting body underneath him, the way he had both battled and encouraged Lupin at the same time, the way the long groans of pleasure had overtaken his furious protests as Lupin had pinned him against the side of the house.

That was how it began.

*

"Give 'em here."

"No! I'm not done yet."

"George! I invented the bloody things, you prat."

"Then you should have brought another set for yourself, because this is much too good to share. Also, that's a filthy lie. I invented exactly half of them, and you know it. Oh, no _way. _Mm. Oh, my."

"What? What's he saying?"

"Not saying very much." George grinned. "Oh, fine." At the murderous look on Fred's face, George handed the Ears over, watching with satisfaction as Fred's eyes widened.

"Oh. _Oh_."

***

** _two_ **

The following week's meeting lasted exactly eight hours and twenty-six minutes; Lupin was certain of it. He could barely comprehend how discussions of such crucial, wartime matters could be reduced to a snoring bore when placed in the hands of his well-meaning but humourless colleagues. Struggling to keep his face schooled in an expression of interest, he couldn't stop his mind from wandering to places it shouldn't, places built of dark, wet fabric between his fingers and rumbling, breathless groans through the night air.

Absolutely nothing of benefit could _ever_ come from fucking Severus Snape in a moment of lust and weakness, he reminded himself. It was best to forget it had ever happened. Snape had probably already Obliviated himself anyway; there wasn't much point in Lupin continuing to hold onto the memory.

The kitchen door swung open with a dramatic flair, and Snape and Dumbledore swept into the room. The exceedingly boring Aurors gathered around the table stopped in their musings over the potential of distracting Ministry officials at the Department of Mysteries with sixteen pages of parchment detailing false new security regulations, versus twenty-eight – would too few or too many evoke more suspicion, they wondered, as Lupin tried not to bang his head against the wall.

Snape's arrival, however, provided a welcome distraction. Lupin sank further into his chair and folded his arms over his chest, watching Snape closely as he delivered his weekly report.

Voldemort still interested in the Prophecy... yes, yes, that was to be expected.

Death Eaters in his circle being arrogant berks about their presumed power... well, naturally. Lupin was amused that Snape should consider that fact worth reporting.

Double agents in the service of dark and light inexplicably enjoying it when arguments over Harry's safety at the Dursleys' devolved into hard, rough sex against brick walls in the rain, despite their protests to the contrary... Fuck.

"Something to add, Lupin?" drawled Snape, pausing in his recitation to pin his gaze on Lupin where he sat slumped in his chair, mind alight with filth and desire.

Lupin cleared his throat and sat up straighter, running his gaze down Snape's body before meeting his glare head-on. "You are doing a remarkable job, Severus," he said quietly. "We are all so very grateful for your sacrifices." The mocking note didn't quite reach the surface of the words – at least, Lupin didn't think it did – but Snape's eyes narrowed all the same.

"I _am_ doing a remarkable job," sneered Snape. "Anytime you wish to add your own contributions to the cause, please, don't let me stop you."

"I wouldn't dare."

"No? What would you _dare_ to do for this war, then, Lupin? Answer me that." Snape flung his finger towards the door. "While I am out there sacrificing everything, you are–"

"Severus, Remus, please. This is no time for arguing," Dumbledore's calm voice interrupted, but Lupin paid him no attention. His mouth fell open a little bit when he felt Snape brushing against his mind as their gazes held. Not sure what Snape was looking for, Lupin withheld a smile of satisfaction and pushed a few choice images forward, thoughts he had entertained since their dalliance in the rain the week before.

In one vision, one of Lupin's large hands held both of Snape's wrists above his head, pinning him against a wall while Lupin's other hand dragged roughly over Snape's exposed prick.

In another, Lupin fastened a gag around Snape's mouth after tying his wrists to a headboard, slithering down Snape's body with well-timed bites and licks as Snape arched his back and groaned through the fabric.

In a third, Lupin stood up right in the middle of an Order meeting, walking over to Snape and shoving him down to his knees with a firm palm to his shoulder, before pulling his dick from his trousers and making Snape suck it in front of the entire Order.

His eyes flashing, Snape pulled away from Lupin's mind and simultaneously took a step backward, as though needing the physical distance between Lupin and himself.

"Severus?" prompted Dumbledore, tilting his head in concern. "Perhaps we should take a break."

"I– yes," stammered Snape, averting Lupin's eyes. "I shall be– upstairs."

"The library is quiet this time of night, if you need to rest," offered Lupin, who really had no business saying anything of the sort. He bit his lip. "I can show you the way, if you–"

"I know where the library is," Snape snapped. "I have no need for a filthy werewolf to–"

Catching his gaze again, Lupin pressed another image forward, cutting off Snape's hurtful words. In the vision, Moony prowled around Snape's lithe body, naked and tied to a dirt floor, his legs spread as a piercing werewolf prick nudged against his –

"I know where the library is!" repeated Snape, his arms waving frantically. "I know where to– _God_. I'll be right back." With one more sharp, hateful glance at Lupin, he strode out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

The others at the table began murmuring to each other about how sad it was to see Snape under such stress, working so tirelessly on their behalf, but Lupin barely heard them.

"I'll, uh, be right back, too," he muttered, eyes shifting from side to side, before he ran for the stairs and darted up after Snape.

Seven minutes later, Lupin sagged against the most heinous Dark volumes in the Black family library, panting as he watched a stream of come slide down Snape's flushed cheek. He leaned forward, dragging his finger through the mess and then lower, to mix with the come smeared over Snape's stomach as well, and finally slid the tip of his finger down Snape's retreating prick.

Collapsing to the floor, Snape knocked Lupin away and cleared the come off his face with the back of his hand, wiping it unceremoniously on the opposite sleeve of his open robe. His head fell back against the bookshelf and he closed his eyes, his other hand pushing his damp hair out of his face. "Fuck," he muttered.

Lupin nodded. "Quite."

He couldn't quite believe he had let it happen again.

*

"So, what've they been saying in the meeting? Snape there yet?"

"I– uh. Yeah." Ron stumbled into the bedroom and handed the Ears over to the twins. "He's there, all right. He– _God_."

"I could eat a hippogriff," moaned George, falling back down to the bed. "When're they going to be done in that kitchen?"

"Wait. Kitchen?"

Fred glanced over. "What room were you listening in on, mate?"

"I– not– the kitchen." Ron squeezed his eyes shut, missing the look that passed between the twins.

"Oh," said Fred, grinning, as George chimed in.

"Ah. Yeah, we probably should have warned you that might happen."

***

** _three_ **

"No."

"What? I haven't said a word."

"I don't care. You didn't say a word last time, and look where it got us. No, stop that."

"I can't. It's my _mind_, Severus. I can't stop it. You stop looking in it."

"I'm not looking in it! I am drinking a well-earned glass of wine and preparing to put up with the various levels of vermin inhabiting this house, and you are intruding on my privacy with your– eyes and your _mind_ and your–"

"My what?"

"What?"

"Please, do go on. What else am I using to intrude on you?"

"Nothing! Nothing else."

"Are you sure? Because I _could_ use something else. I mean, you've got to admit you've been receptive to– other things I've used in order to– _intrude_ in you and–"

"This metaphor is ridiculous."

Lupin paused, pursing his lips and then shrugging. "Come on, quit arguing. Let's just fuck." He motioned with his head for Snape to follow him up from the cellar. "We don't have much time."

"Absolutely not." Turning away from him, Snape drained the last of his goblet and corked the wine he'd opened, shoving the bottle back into one of the dozen abandoned boxes of the Black family stash.

Lupin took a step towards him, folding his arms over his chest. "You _liked_ the things in my mind," he murmured. "You want to be shoved against a brick wall and shagged senseless. You _want_ to feel the edges of a forbidden book digging into your back while you swallow my cock. I can't say I thought it was the best idea at first, but I have to admit, I've rather got used to it." He wet his lips. "Now, you can't tell me you've got any better offers at the moment, what with the state of the world and the war and what not, so come on. Quit being a prima donna and get up here." He headed for the stairs.

Snape threw the goblet down on the floor with a crash, advancing on Lupin. "You know nothing of what I like," he spat, "and nothing of my _offers_. You think I need a filthy animal to satisfy me? Absurd, Lupin. You were convenient once–"

"Twice."

"–but no more! Now, if you'll excuse me, I am not nearly drunk enough to face the various miscreants up there yet, and I would very much like to remedy that before–"

Lupin eyed him. "Are you saying you're not attracted to me?"

Snape rolled his eyes. "Very astute, Lupin. Pray tell, what other insights have you got hidden away in that piercing mind of yours?"

"Are you _actually_ saying," continued Lupin, leaning against the wall of the cellar staircase and tilting his head to the side, "that the thought of me throwing you to the ground right now and shoving my cock inside you does not appeal whatsoever?"

Snape's mouth thinned. "Not at all."

"So, okay." Lupin held up a hand. "Let me just make sure I've got this straight. The fact that you have gone from shouting insults at me to coming all over yourself from my cock in under ten minutes, not only once but _twice_ now, was purely an anomaly? A complete accident, or coincidence, never to be repeated?"

Snape clenched his jaw. "I see what you are trying to do, and it won't work."

"What's that?"

"You are trying to goad me into losing my temper again. I will not, Lupin. I can shout insults at you all I wish, and it need not result in– in–"

Lupin smiled. "Coming all over yourself from my cock. You can say it, Severus."

"I will say no such thing. Good evening, Lupin." Snape made to sweep past him and up the stairs, but Lupin shot out a hand and placed it firm against Snape's chest, stopping him.

"How about a small wager, then?" he murmured against the side of Snape's face.

"No."

"Hear me out." Lupin moved his hand up Snape's chest and throat until it reached Snape's chin. Turning it firmly, he ensured Snape was looking at him.

"No," repeated Snape, but he didn't pull away.

Lupin wet his lips, the completely indecent proposal fully forming itself in his mind. "Up these stairs and around the side of the house is the front door," he began. "The hidden front door, of course."

"Only hidden until someone arrives who knows where it is," Snape clarified, glaring daggers at Lupin.

"Indeed." Lupin dropped his hand from Snape's chin and began moving up the stairs, one small step at a time. "We are going to stand on that front porch right now, and I am going to put my hand down your trousers. If you come before anyone arrives to see you, then you win." A slow grin spread over Lupin's face. "You can go back inside, clean yourself up, and I will never bother you again."

Snape arched a brow. "Let me see if I can fill in the other side of this."

"If you don't," continued Lupin, ignoring him, "then you not only suffer the humiliation of being caught with my hand down your trousers, but my hand will probably be forced to retreat, because of the aforementioned situation of being caught. And if _that_ happens," Lupin pressed on, reaching out to grasp Snape's robes and drag him up the stairs, "then we will be forced to finish our task elsewhere, at a later date, at which time you will honour my wishes for the manner in which you _do_ finally come – and which will most assuredly involve more than just my hand down your trousers."

Snape blanched, pausing on the staircase. "Both of these situations involve your hand down my trousers," he huffed after a moment, "which, as I have already said, is not a situation I require, thank you very much."

Lupin leaned in close to him. "But think of it, Severus. If you come quickly, like a good boy, then you need never suffer my filthy, animal hand down your trousers again."

Snape's breath hitched, and in the dim light of the cellar stairs, Lupin could see a dash of colour blossom across his cheeks. "Need I remind you that there are children in this house, Lupin? While getting caught by the likes of Shacklebolt might appeal to you, surely you cannot say the same for the Weasley brood, or, for that matter, _Potter_."

A frown passed over Lupin's face, but he cleared his throat and didn't let it linger. "Then you'd better not get caught, hm?"

They stared each other down for five slow seconds, Lupin's heart rate accelerating along with each rapid breath flaring Snape's nostrils.

"Fine." Snape bit the word out and abruptly turned on his heel, striding up the stairs two at a time. "Come on, then."

Eyes widening, Lupin tore up the stairs after him, chasing him around the side of the house until they were both shoved up against the front door. Knowing where the house was and prowling around its outskirts was one thing, but they had to be careful not to activate the door chime that would actually let them enter. Not yet, at least.

The summer breeze tickled the back of Lupin's neck as he moved against Snape, pinning him to the door and, as promised, unfastening his trousers just far enough to grasp his cock and establish a languid rhythm.

"Faster," Snape urged, his eyes darting over Lupin's shoulder, and Lupin laughed softly.

"You seem to be mistaken as to which side of the wager I'm interested in winning."

"Oh? And what would you have me do if you win?" Snape's breath was becoming increasingly ragged, as he let his head fall back against the door.

"Careful, Severus. If I tell you about it, you might come too fast."

"Going to – _God_ – anyway." Snape groaned. "Hate you."

"Mm, I know." Snape's prick pulsed in Lupin's fist, swelling more with each pull upwards, and Lupin found himself leaning closer, burying his face in Snape's neck and murmuring against his skin. "Would you hate me if I bent you over the back of the sofa in the living room next week?"

Snape made a small noise in his throat.

"Would you hate me if I made you late for the meeting because you were too busy riding my cock?" Snape's hair fell over Lupin's cheek as Snape gasped, pushing up into Lupin's fist.

"Stop– that," he muttered, tilting his head back. "Ah. God."

"Stop what?" Lupin stilled his hand. "This? But Severus, I thought you wanted to come quickly. Someone could arrive at any moment, after all, and knowing how much you _hate_ me–" he drew the word out, punctuating it with a nip to Snape's earlobe – "I wouldn't want you to suffer through the things I'm planning to do to you if we're interrupted."

At that, Snape choked out a low moan, his cock pulsing in Lupin's grip as hot come smeared over his hand. "Fuck. _Fuck_." Snape pounded his fist against the door behind him, squeezing his eyes shut and scowling at Lupin.

"No!" said Lupin, grabbing his wrist with his free hand. "Don't knock on the–"

But the heavy door was already swinging open behind Snape and he toppled through it, dragging Lupin with him as they both collapsed on the floor in a heap of open clothes and stray body parts. Snape swore and kicked at Lupin, while Lupin glanced frantically around the foyer, hoping that the door had opened of its own accord at the knock, and not because anyone had actually opened it.

Good. They appeared to be safe.

"Get– _off_– me–" Snape muttered, pushing against Lupin from the floor, but Lupin had landed on top of Snape and could see no immediate reason to let him up. Besides, he was still flushed and angry, and Lupin was still hard and wanting. He shoved Snape down and ground his hips against him, rolling them into Snape's body while Lupin's hands held his arms down.

"God, Severus," he moaned, his face buried in Snape's neck, and Snape's struggling only served to create more friction against his groin, more pressure in all the right places.

"I _won_," whinged Snape, his fist tight in Lupin's hair and his legs still tangled with Lupin's on the floor as they rutted together. "You aren't– supposed to– accost me like this– _Christ_."

"Keep your voice down," muttered Lupin, pushing himself up a bit to look Snape in the face. When he did, the furious eyes and red, wet lips confronted and taunted him. As Snape made to bite out another retort, Lupin leaned down and kissed him, devouring his mouth as Snape's knee came up between Lupin's legs, pressing against his cock. Sensation raced through him, heightened by the knowledge that they could be caught at any second, that they could –

"Disgusting animals! Desecrating the good House of Black with their filth! Half-bloods! Traitors!"

Panic ripped through Lupin's body, and in his alarm, Snape succeeded in throwing him off at last and sitting bolt upright. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and quickly glanced down at his open flies, cursing as he hurriedly fastened them.

"She bloody knows me," he muttered, glaring daggers at Mrs Black's screeching portrait. "Half-blood, _fine_, but traitor? Honestly. No respect in this house for–"

"Get _up_," urged Lupin, jumping to his feet and hauling Snape up by the arm. His cock still throbbed in his trousers as his eyes darted around for an escape route. "Upstairs," he whispered, dragging Snape by the arm. "They'll all be in the kitchen, won't they? They'll come from that way to shut her up. Come on." He ran up the stairs with Snape behind him, flinging him into the shadows of a corner alcove and pressing him against the wall. "Don't move," he whispered, the words barely audible against Snape's lips.

Downstairs, they heard several voices shouting at the portrait to shut up, shut _up_ already, and Lupin sighed in relief, sagging against Snape's body.

"Okay," he murmured. "Wait till they're back downstairs in the kitchen, and then we can go." He glanced to the side. "I think it's–"

But his words were cut off by Snape's hand cupping his jaw and turning it back to face him. Lupin was treated to one last blaze of light dancing through black eyes from the shadows, before Snape pulled him in close and kissed him soundly. He parted his lips and gasped before he could stop himself, Snape's tongue sliding against his and their parted lips moving together, soft and warm and urgent. Lupin let out a low moan, burying his hands in Snape's hair, as Snape slid his hands down and unbuttoned Lupin's trousers. Snape's fingers pressed inside and curved over Lupin's prick, and Lupin was lost, thrusting into Snape's sticky fist and letting the sensation of it overtake him.

"Oh, God," he panted. "So close. Thought you didn't want to– thought you– _God_." Snape cut him off with another kiss, deeper than the last, and Lupin hummed around his shuddering orgasm, pumping into Snape's hand as his knees nearly buckled beneath him.

They stood together for several long minutes, panting and stealing kisses, Snape's hand moving slowly over Lupin's softening prick and then up his stomach, making small circles even as he whispered words to clear the come from his fingers. Lupin let his head fall to Snape's shoulder and inhaled, moaning in satisfaction and relishing the curl of warmth stealing over him. Snape's hands carefully fastened Lupin's trousers again, brushing one more kiss across his lips.

But all at once, as if burned by Lupin's very presence, Snape shoved him roughly away. He wiped a hand across his mouth and glared with flashing eyes. "Nothing but a dirty animal," he muttered under his breath, turning on his heel and striding down the corridor and then the stairs without a backward glance.

Lupin could only stare after him, touching his fingertips to his lips with a trembling hand.

*

Hermione stumbled back into the bedroom, absently setting the Ears into the palm of one twin's hand. "What?" she asked after a moment, frowning and turning towards them.

"I said, hear anything interesting?" Fred grinned at her and winked. She furrowed her brow.

"No," she said slowly, her mind still reeling. "I mean, I– it's just– no. Nothing."

"Oh, come on!" said George, vaulting off the bed. "You mean you didn't hear the dynamic duo?"

"The pervy pair?" added Fred.

"The salami swingers?"

"The cock-docking couple?"

"The tadger-tasting twosome?"

"Ooh, good one, George."

"Thank you, Fred."

"_Shut_ it!" cried Hermione. "I heard– _yes_. I heard them." She fiddled with the hem of her blouse, biting at her bottom lip as the twins came up behind her.

"And?" they asked in unison.

"Quite the show, isn't it?" cackled Fred.

"Yes," she admitted, sitting down heavily on the bed, her eyes downcast. "They're brilliant together," she added mournfully, not noticing the puzzled glances the twins exchanged.

"Now, why the long face, Hermione?" George sat down beside her, giving her a mock pout. "Your first time doesn't have to be your last. Anytime you need a little pick-me-up, just wait till an Order meeting's on the agenda, grab a set of Ears, and poke around the house a bit. You're sure to find them hiding out somewhere."

"Thinking they're actually being secretive," added Fred with a roll of his eyes.

"Thinking they're _not_ actually louder than a pair of orgasming hippogriffs."

Hermione winced. "Oh, yes. Thank you for that image."

"The only thing that makes this rubbish house bearable," concluded Fred, reclining on the bed with his hands behind his head, "is our pervy old professors getting off in the nooks and crannies." He grinned, slapping George's outstretched palm.

But Hermione shook her head, her expression dark. "They're not just getting off," she murmured to herself while the boys continued laughing, "and that's exactly the problem – for one of them, at least." She made her way to the door, sighing as she took hold of the knob and turned it. "They're falling in love."

***

** _four_ **

After that, relations between the two of them entered such a frosty stage that Lupin was certain he could see the icicles forming on the kitchen walls every time Snape entered the room to give his reports. He refused to meet Lupin's eyes and never spoke to him, even if asked a direct question. Although he didn't think any of the others would have noticed the tension, Lupin still regretted it, and he found himself mourning Snape's loss more than he thought he would.

It was just a few quick shags, after all. There was no reason to get so worked up over it.

But Snape did appear to be worked up over it, and more so than usual for him. He _had_ won the wager, that much was true, and Lupin had promised to stay away from him if he did, but Lupin had to admit he was disappointed that Snape seemed to be taking it so seriously. Lupin had, against his better judgement, entertained the hope that they could meet up again, and again, and possibly one more time in the coming weeks.

What had begun as a rash mistake, a colossal error fuelled by anger and pettiness and the emotional turmoil of wartime had evolved into something else entirely, something Lupin hadn't even recognised until Snape's lips had brushed his in the alcove. After that, he'd realised exactly what it was – and that made everything even worse.

Sighing, Lupin gazed across the kitchen at Snape now as he shot sarcastic retorts at the Aurors foolish enough to ask him questions about his Intelligence. For one brief moment, Lupin managed to catch Snape's eye. Relieved, he immediately opened his mind and pushed his memories forward, concentrating on the feel of Snape's skin against his. But as if slamming a heavy door in his face, he felt Snape shut him out, rejecting his offered visions and shielding his own mind.

At the end of the meeting, Snape strode out of the room and the house, and Lupin dared not follow him.

After helping with the dishes and making polite small talk with the others, Lupin retreated upstairs to his room, closing the door and collapsing onto his bed. He couldn't even remember the argument that had started it all, the night Snape had intercepted him arriving at Grimmauld Place and unleashed a string of invective at him for allowing the Order to use Black's house, or for being a useless animal with no role in this war, or for whatever else Snape tended to get upset about in life. It had been close to the moon; Lupin remembered that much. The heat searing through his blood told him he couldn't let Snape walk away without a fight.

Some fight that had been.

He could still feel Snape's body convulsing beneath him, cursing him and moaning at the same time as Snape's knuckles were scraped bloody against the wall of the house. Groaning now and swearing under his breath, Lupin gave up and unbuttoned his trousers, reaching a hand inside and wrapping his fist around his cock. With memories flashing through his mind of Snape's face drawn in orgasm and Snape's voice moaning his name without even realising it, Lupin brought himself off quickly. Afterward, he stumbled into a light sleep without changing his clothes or cleaning himself off, and in the morning, sticky and cold and entirely prepared to blame Snape for all of it, Lupin resolved to stop wasting his time thinking about Snape.

It was just a few quick shags. Nothing more.

The next week, he sat in the kitchen once again, sipping cold tea and chatting with the others as they awaited Snape and Dumbledore. When the kitchen door finally opened, Dumbledore swept in alone, his face grave.

"There will be no meeting tonight," he said simply, as the group at the table exchanged glances with each other. "I will let you know when we can reconvene. When we know more." With that, he headed back towards the door, but Lupin stopped him.

Jumping to his feet, he called out the first thing in his head. "But– Severus?"

Dumbledore paused at the door, sighing before he turned around again. "He did not report to me this morning as planned," he said quietly. "I am sure he has his reasons, but until I hear from him–" A shadow stole over his face and he pressed his lips together. In another second, however, he raised his chin and scanned the room again. "You are dismissed, with my thanks," he said briskly, striding from the room.

A cold grip squeezed Lupin's heart, and as the other Order members milled around and finally filed out, he sat frozen in his chair, his mind buzzing with a million different terrible possibilities. There was a time for fun, for meaningless romps and teasing, but the middle of a fucking war was not one of them. He cursed himself for bothering Snape in the first place, for distracting him from his focus, for forcing images of the two of them rutting like wild animals into his mind at the expense of his crucial shields from Voldemort, for– _everything_.

The following three days passed in a blur, as Lupin continuously sought word about Snape only to learn that he still had not reported back, that he still had not been found. Lupin had watched Snape play this game for years; he knew that the more hours or days that passed, the greater the likelihood that if Snape did appear again, he would not be the same. He might be suffering the _Cruciatus_ curse at that very moment, Lupin knew, and if he even survived it, they could never again return to their risky, carefree summer of sex and secrets.

Late on the third night, just after the old Black grandfather clock struck two, Lupin woke from a restless sleep to find the door of his bedroom creaking open. He sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes as a shadowed figure slid into the room, closing the door behind him without a sound. A streak of light from the half-moon outside stole in through the high window, illuminating the figure as he crossed the room, and Lupin's breath caught.

He jumped out of bed and gathered the figure in his arms, feeling him immediately sag against him. "My God, Severus," he whispered, smoothing his fingers across a pale cheek. "You're alive."

Snape nodded, closing his eyes and reaching up for Lupin's hand, holding it to his face. "I'm all right," he said quietly. "Dumbledore indicated you had been– concerned."

Lupin choked back a laugh that threatened to turn into a sob. "Concerned. Yes, that's one word for it. Can you– can you walk?"

"I'm not hurt," repeated Snape, but his voice was low and not terribly stable. "I simply couldn't leave, not when I wished to. I wasn't sure I'd ever–" He stopped, swallowing and clenching his jaw, and Lupin framed his face with strong hands.

"Okay, shh," he murmured. "It's okay now. You're here."

"Lupin, don't entertain any of your ridiculous notions about our–"

"You're _here_," breathed Lupin, his lips brushing Snape's, and Snape relaxed in his arms, his forehead touching Lupin's.

"Yes," he murmured, his lips moving over Lupin's jaw.

They ceased talking after that, the shadows in the room shifting to capture dark clothing as it hit the floor and two writhing bodies collapsing to the bed. Their mouths crashed together with a calm fury, and together they worked to ensure no bit of skin went untouched by mouths or fingers. Lupin moved over Snape's body carefully but with a newfound certainty, mapping it out and relishing this first glimpse of it fully naked, pale and taut and stretched out for him like this. He sucked Snape's bottom lip into his mouth and felt Snape's answering groan down to his toes; he slid down Snape's body and felt Snape's muscles tense and his back arch up towards him; he spread Snape's legs and pushed inside him, slow and deep, and decided he would never forget the wash of pleasure over Snape's face as he thrust.

He pressed Snape's thighs up and buried himself inside his body, his breath hot on Snape's neck and Snape's low voice gasping with him as he increased his pace. Snape's fingers clenched against Lupin's back and his hips lifted up, encouraging Lupin to push deeper, faster, their chests heaving and every drop of anger they had ever felt for each other bleeding away into searing passion. Lupin brushed his fingers up Snape's cock as he rocked against him, and Snape quickly threw his head back and moaned, come coating Lupin's fingers and Snape's stomach. Lupin surged inside Snape with a single great thrust, his own prick stilling as he pulsed inside Snape's body, anchoring him to the bed and claiming him once and for all.

It was dawn before they finally fell asleep, exhausted and sated, wrapped in each other's arms.

*

"Harry! Where've you been, mate? God, what time is it?"

"Arse o'clock," grumbled another voice from the neighbouring bed, hauling a pillow over his head.

"Sorry," mumbled Harry. "Just, uh, wanted to give the Ears back."

Fred dug a bit of crust out from the corner of his eye, pausing to glance at Harry. "You've been out there all night?"

"Well, no. Just– uh. Couldn't sleep."

"Gotta rest up, Harry. When Snape gets back, we've got some serious eavesdropping to do."

Harry mumbled something under his breath, swallowing hard.

George peeked out from under the pillow. "What's that?"

"Said, he's already back." Harry swayed on the spot, grabbing the doorframe for support.

Fred and George exchanged a look.

"I don't suppose those Ears ever made it down to the kitchen, did they?" Fred raised a brow.

"I– it got caught on the second floor. Outside a door." Harry flushed bright red.

"You're new here, mate," said George solemnly. "We might have neglected to fill you in on all the details of this place."

"Our mistake, Harry." Fred grinned. "Are you traumatised for life?"

"I– no. I don't think so." Harry staggered back towards the door, his mouth hanging open a little bit. "I think I need to be alone now, though."

***

** _five_ **

"Well, there's no sense starting until Professor Snape arrives."

"He's been late every week lately, though! Surely we can let Kingsley and Tonks begin the briefing, and when Snape arrives, he can–"

"He's the one who needs to _hear_ the briefing. Let's give him five more minutes."

The voices wafted up from the kitchen and through the locked door of the living room. With one hand planted over Snape's mouth, Lupin leaned down and whispered in his ear, "Do you hear that, Severus? Five more minutes."

Hot breath filled Lupin's hand, sending a renewed jolt of sensation up his arm and into his chest. His cock surged a little, swelling against the walls of Snape's arse as he shifted his hips and gave a shallow thrust to punctuate his words.

"Can you come in five minutes, I wonder?" With one hand still covering Snape's mouth, Lupin trailed the other one down Snape's chest and stomach until it brushed his prick. Light fingers skimmed over the taut skin, sweeping down to his balls, before his thumb and forefinger snaked around the base to make a tight circle. He increased the pressure.

Snape gasped against Lupin's hand, scraping his teeth along the firm fingers.

Lupin growled. "If you bite me, you won't get to come before we have to go downstairs," he warned. The sofa creaked as Lupin pulled back a little bit, withdrawing his cock before sliding it back in, shoving Snape even further over the back of the sofa. His fingers clenched tighter around the base of Snape's prick, causing Snape to suck in a sudden breath.

"Lupin," he muttered between thin lips, his fingers curled against the sofa's hideous floral pattern. "You will _not_ do this again, you fucking–"

"Again?" Lupin thrust in gently, pressing his hips forward at a leisurely pace until Snape groaned again, dropping his head between his shoulders. "I have yet to hear you complain, you miserable prick." He smiled to himself, sinking into the role. Reenacting their time spent as bitter enemies who couldn't stop fucking might be risky this early in their relationship – _if_ it could even be called that – but Lupin couldn't deny that it riled Snape up beautifully. "You're the one who sweeps in here every week and gives me that look," he continued. "_You're_ the one who–"

"There is no _look_," grumbled Snape. "This is absurd. You are nothing but a– oh. _Oh_. Christ. Stop that."

"Three minutes," purred Lupin, his lips brushing Snape's ear. The circle of his thumb and forefinger slid up Snape's prick before dropping to the base and stilling again.

More voices filtered up from the kitchen. "Remus should be here by now, too," one of them mused, clinking a stirring spoon inside a cup.

"Well, _I_ wouldn't miss him if he doesn't show," another muttered. "He's always in such a strop this close to the moon."

"This close to the moon, indeed," whispered Lupin. "What could I possibly be good for this close to the moon, Severus?"

"Nothing."

Lupin thrust in again, snapping his hips up even as Snape pushed back to meet him. "Sure about that?"

"You're good for _nothing_, Lupin," Snape ground out, twisting around to glare at Lupin. "I have no need for werewolf cock, you dirty beast. No need at all for you to–"

"Gentlemen."

Lupin froze in place, his eyes darting up to the door. He thanked his lucky stars that the position of the sofa, which faced the door, didn't allow the intruder to see much other than the pair of them pinned over the back of it.

"Headmaster," croaked Snape, trying to stand.

Dumbledore put up a hand, glancing away. "No need to explain. But your presence is required downstairs, if you don't mind. Perhaps you could resume your, ah, activities on your leisure time instead." He gave them a stern look before turning back to the door.

"Not that I don't have complete faith in your power to overcome locking spells, Albus," Lupin called after him, "but how did you know we were in here?"

Dumbledore paused, turning back towards them and raising an odd-looking item hanging by the end of a bit of string. Snape squinted.

"Is that an _ear_?"

A smile flitted across the old wizard's face before he turned grave again, giving them a significant look over the top of his spectacles. "Locking spells are one thing, gentlemen, but you might consider adding a well-crafted Silencing charm to your regimen, as well." He chuckled as he made his way out the door. "I fear there might be more than a few overly curious teenagers in this house right now."

 

-fin-

**Author's Note:**

> Serpenscript gave the following prompt: _Being forced to work together during a war makes nerves fragile and tempers short. It tends to lead to fights, which will hopefully result in angry!sex in multiple unusual places; huge bonus for dub-con/non-con angry first-time sex outside in the rain in a semi-public place, leading to a strange, uneasy relationship. Bonus for humiliation, blackmail, interrupted sex (outsider witnessing - Harry or Ron or the Twins), bottom!Snape, Alpha!Remus. No Tonks please. Hopeful/happy ending_. She also wanted to see them "suffer and struggle through to the good times," and mentioned that cameos by Hermione or a touch of werewolf bestiality would not go amiss.


End file.
